Buena Vista Social Club lyrics
I've always loved their music, but for the first time I'm paying attention to the lyrics of Buena Vista Social Club. They're almost like zen poetry - simple, mundane details told in a way that brings out not poignance and mystery (like in the case of zen poetry) but more of ache and longing buried deep within us, inside somewhere.

There is a tremendous similarity between folk lyrics from all corners of the world and also between the emotions they evoke - it's a pure, unpretentious sentiment, worked on with care and honesty by different mouths and different souls, until the song takes a life of its own and channels the spirit of the culture using the voice of an individual.

On one of my first days on Arran I went to a local pub where they were playing traditional Scottish music, and there was a girl from a village in the north sitting in the audience who was invited to sing. She sang an incredibly moving and beautiful song that would make you burst into tears if you did not find yourself in polite company - indeed, I saw a burly, tattoed man desperately wiping his tears away before his wife could see them. I knew that night that this was to be a very special trip.

I feel so awfully sad that this world of folk music is lost to us, where people used to work in the fields and sing at the same time in rhythm with their movement, and now instead we have machines and pesticides and suicidal bureaucrats who have never seen a farm in their lives. The soul is paying the price for the whims and conveniences of the body and the mind.

Anyway, here are some of my favourite lyrics from Buena Vista Social Club's first album.

---
Chan Chan

I'm going from Alto Cedro to Marcané
Then from Cueto, I'm going to Mayarí.
The love I have for you
I cannot deny
My mouth is watering
I just can't help myself.
When Juanica and Chan Chan
Sifted sand together on the beach
How her bottom shook
And Chan Chan was aroused.
Clean the dry sugar cane leaves
From the path
So I can get to that trunk
I want to sit down.

Y tu que has hecho?

On the trunk of a tree, a young girl,
Carved out her name, filled with joy
And the tree, touched to the core,
Let a flower drop down to the girl.

I am the tree, sad and deeply moved.
You are the girl who wounded my trunk
I have always guarded your beloved name,
And you, what have you done with my poor flower?

El Carretero

Along the track by my house
A cart-driver passed
With his sentimental songs
The peasant sang:
I'm going to the crossing
To unburden my load
I'm going to the crossing
To unburden my load
There I'll reach the end
Of my crushing labour.
Ride on up the mountain.
I work without rest
So I can marry
I work without rest
So I can marry
And if I can achieve that
I'll be a happy man.
Ride on up the mountain.
I am a peasant and a cart-driver
I live well off the land
Because the countryside is paradise
The most beautiful place on earth
Work the mountain, cultivate the plain
Reap the fruits of your labour.

Ay Candela

A rodent put on a dance for some great amusement
He chose a mouse as his drummer, to play for the whole day.
An elegant and amiable cat came along too,
'Good evening my friend'
He said to the drummer
'I can play too,
And you can take a rest'.
The mouse left the room half-crazy,
'Now I'll have to go and rest!'
And the cat played a lighthearted danzón in his delightful way.
The mouse got up on the palm-tree roof and announced politely:
'And now if you want to dance, find yourself another drummer!'

La Bayamesa

In her soul, the Bayamo woman carries
Sad memories of the past
Memories of green pastures
Make her passionate tears overflow
She is true, she brings only goodness
And love to mankind.

But she can hear her homeland crying out
But she can hear her homeland crying out
She has left everything, she has burnt everything
It is her life, her religion.
---

The problem is that I think very few people reach the ends of their crushing labours.